


Fear and Love

by irisbleufic



Category: Alice in Wonderland (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-09
Updated: 2010-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fear and love are complex enough, but what of <i>pity</i>?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear and Love

**Author's Note:**

> A friend wanted fic about how Mirana plays at being the virtuous one, but Iracebeth knows better.

Even now, at the end, Iracebeth isn't sure which one of them pitied the other more.

She's not talking about Stayne, of course. She'd killed him while he slept (a dagger hidden in one's boot is _always_ useful after battle), exhausted, not far from the spot where that despicable pair of White Knights had deposited them by a patch of scrub-brush and a dried-up pond on the border of the Outlands. She'd freed herself by severing his left hand at the wrist. No use in trying to get rid of the shackles that now hung heavy from her own. She'd simply begun to walk, no destination in mind.

She'd done the poor, back-stabbing Knave a kindness purely because Mirana had _not_.

When they were children, Iracebeth had taken the blame for nearly every piece of mischief they'd committed. At first, she'd done it out of love for her younger sister—for, in those days, who could _not_ have loved her? Mirana had been the _sweetest_ child, there was no denying it. The trouble was, she'd never outgrown the sweetness, and she'd never outgrown her addiction to innocence, either. By the time they'd reached their teens, Mirana had perfected the art of white lies, just as she'd perfected her potion-making. Stupid creature. She could've done with a few lessons in politics!

Mirana had won their father's crown by refusing to marry. Clever, Iracebeth had to admit. Her late husband's realm—King of Hearts _indeed_ —had proved rich in resources and doe-eyed souls to scare into submission. Surely they'd known it was for their own good, _surely_. She'd studied for this, been groomed to it, _lived_ for it. She existed to rule and to be adored. It had taken a while to bring all of Underland around to the notion, but she'd done it. With her dear, dead Jabberwocky's help, of course.

Iracebeth had conquered Underland for _love_. Was that really so hard to understand? Fear was merely part and parcel with the deal. Ask any fool who's head-over-heels. That Hatter, for instance, once his precious, ruthless Alice is gone. He'll tell you.

When the dizziness grows too great, Iracebeth sinks down on the spot, bald-stockinged in the dust. Whether it's dehydration, lack of food, or the insistent pain behind her eyes, she can't be certain. There is a difference between sickness and madness. She'll be dead soon, in any case, or at least too far gone to care. Past fear _and_ love.

And pity. No, they'll not _dare_ pity her now.


End file.
